


Do Something For Me

by Paganpunk2



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Asking Favors, Established Relationship, Homosexuality, I Love You, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protectiveness, first I love you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28364655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paganpunk2/pseuds/Paganpunk2
Summary: During a tryst in the woods, Sullivan asks Sid for a serious favor.
Relationships: Sid Carter/Inspector Sullivan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Do Something For Me

Sullivan watched Carter constantly.

There was little danger in this, because everyone in Kembleford had long ago grown used to the idea that one of the Inspector’s goals in life was to put their resident scamp behind bars. Of course he was watching, watching and waiting for Sid to stumble into some charge that he wouldn’t be able to wriggle his way out of. Their cat-and-mouse game was old news, as unworthy of serious comment or consideration as Mrs. McCarthy winning yet another award for her strawberry scones.

And thus, alone amongst all of the things that Sullivan would have liked to be able to do to or with Sid in public, he could get away with his observations. As long as he remembered to keep his expression somewhere between neutral and irritated, no one would think twice about his frequent glances and drawn-out stares. He would have preferred to drop the act – to have a casual pint together at The Red Lion, their feet mingling comfortably under the table, or to share a quick see-you-later kiss at the front door of the police cottage after a night in each other’s arms – but neither the law nor the court of public opinion provided for that. So Sullivan took what he could get and tried to be satisfied with it.

He’d been watching for months now, building a case in his head that made him heartsick. For a shadowy character, Sid had an awful lot of friends. He talked to everyone, right on up from old Widow Bentley, who might well have been called out as a witch in a less enlightened age, to Lady Felicia. It was never just business when Sid popped into a shop, because there was always at least one person there for him to either flirt or, as Sullivan had heard American GIs put it during the war, ‘shoot the bull’ with. Even tradesmen who knew he’d pilfered from them before tended to be genial. Sullivan understood their predicament; as aggravating as Sid could be, the man knew how to turn on the charm when he wanted to. To quote Sergeant Goodfellow, only someone with a soul of stone could stay mad at him for more than a night or two at a time.

The pub provided further evidence of this. For a cheat, Sid seemed to be thought an excellent sport. He could completely embarrass a person at darts or cards one Saturday and have them buying him beers the next. Sullivan rarely went out himself, but he’d seen and heard enough to know that Sid never drank alone. If one table or another didn’t wave him over the moment he walked in, someone would join him at the bar for a chat before long. Hell, he was even popular with cricketers from neighboring communities who’d buckled under his bowling that very same afternoon.

Then there were Sid’s closest contacts in the village. For an unrepentant sinner, he was disturbingly comfortable bantering with saints. How he’d convinced two of the most devout people in the entire county to look upon him like a son was mind-boggling. He never went to confession – was not even, so far as Sullivan knew, a Catholic, or an anything at all – but he hung about the church as unaffectedly as if it were the post office. Father Brown’s right-hand man, Mrs. McCarthy’s chief source of annoyance, and equally indulged by them both; if that wasn’t a mystery, Sullivan didn’t know what was.

Indulged, too, by the local Countess. For a chauffeur, he received an unusually large number of invitations to teas and parties. Lady Felicia was well-regarded for her affability towards her staff, but there was more than that between her and her driver. Sullivan had never sensed anything sexual – which was good, because all his watching had made him realize that he was a rather jealous sort of person when it came to Sid – but it took zero imagination to picture them giggling into the wee hours together like a couple of schoolgirls.

Finally, there was Sid himself. For a London-born man, he fit awfully well into this rural little town. It wasn’t just that he knew all the people, and that they knew him. He also got the flow of the place, felt it in his bones, and moved easily along with its rhythm. Watching Sid navigate Kembleford on an ordinary day was akin to watching a dancer follow along with the radio. Even though neither could predict what kind of tempo might come on next, they were rarely wrong-footed, and every step they took seemed to bring them a light-hearted joy.

Sullivan was thinking about all of these things as he watched Sid materialize from the woods and into the small clearing where they’d agreed to meet. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Sid shrugged. “Little Molly Frobisher fell off her bike all of two feet in front of me and skinned her knee up. She was only a few doors down from home, but that’s a long way when you’re five. So I made sure she got back to her mum okay, and took a detour from there so’s anyone looking would think I was going somewhere else than out of town.” He plumped down on the mossy ground and leaned back against the log that Sullivan was perched atop. Then he tilted his head back and smiled up at him. “Why, j’you miss me?”

Sullivan traced the line of Sid’s jaw with one thumb. “...Yes. I did.”

Sid’s smile began to flatten. “You’re off today.” He shifted around until he could prop an elbow on the log and lean his head against his palm. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” Sid had melted out of the trees like he’d been born of them, with the same easy fluidity that he used to move between the criminal underworld, the house of God, and the halls of nobles. You couldn’t, Sullivan had realized not long before their first kiss, lock a spirit like that up for long without killing it.

“C’mon,” Sid pressed. The hand that wasn’t supporting his head fell onto Sullivan’s knee. It was a warm day, and Sullivan had worn the lightest suit he owned. The thin fabric of his trousers was no protection against the heat and weight of Sid’s fingers as they gently squeezed. “You know we won’t be able to have any fun until you let it out.”

He was right. Still, Sullivan hesitated. “Sid, I...I need you to do something for me.”

“Well, that _is_ what we’re here for, innit?” His hand began to creep upwards.

“No,” Sullivan countered quickly. “I mean...” He sighed as Sid’s saucy smirk became a faint frown. “What I mean is,” he continued more gently, weaving the wandering fingers on his thigh into his own, “that it’s not that kind of a task.”

“Oh.” A contemplative beat passed. “But we’re still going to-”

“Yes.” Despite his blue mood, Sullivan chuckled. “Yes, you insatiable lech. But this is important.”

“So tell me the thing, already.”

“It’s hard.”

“Heh. Not yet, it’s not.”

“Sid!”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry! Just...what, then?” His gaze softened as he studied the struggle in Sullivan’s eyes. “...What is it? Seriously.”

“Sid, if we’re ever caught...” He paused as the other man’s focus shifted immediately to the edges of the clearing. Once Sid had finished scanning, he went on. “If we’re ever caught, Sid, I want you to lie.”

“You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Yes, I know, but I’m talking about a situation in which we cannot deny what we’ve been doing. What we are. If that ever happens, I need you to lie about your part in it all.”

Confusion was writ large on Sid’s face. “I don’t get it. If we’re that caught, what good’s a lie gonna do?”

“If you tell them that you aren’t actually attracted to other men – if you say that I blackmailed you, that I refrained from following up on certain allegations or tips in exchange for sexual favors – it might be enough to save you. Tell them I threatened to file false charges, if you have to.” He was begging now, pleading, because the idea of Sid in a cell that Sullivan didn’t control the key to was unbearable. “Just get yourself out of it.”

“Like hell am I going to do that.” The jaw that Sullivan had stroked a minute earlier was set now, and the gaze above it was angry. “How c’n you even ask me to do that? How can you think-?”

“I knew you wouldn’t like it, Sid, but _please_.” Sullivan could feel tears balancing on the edges of his eyelids. “...Please. If they take you out of here on that kind of a charge, you’ll never be able to come back.”

“The Father won’t care-”

“He’s not all of Kembleford, no matter how much you might think he is.” Sullivan met Sid’s glare with one of his own. “...Some would forgive it, Sid, but you know how people are. You can’t charm your way out of a sex conviction. If you get hit with one of those, charm will be a liability, not an asset. And I don’t want that for you.”

“Oh, and I suppose you think it’d be better for the whole village to believe that I let you ream me on the regular just so I could dodge a few short lock-ups? ‘Cause _that_ wouldn’t be a loss of face or anything.”

“At least it would be a chance! A chance to go on with your life here!” Here, where Sid belonged in a way that Sullivan had never, would never, belong anywhere. “It would be odd for a little while, I’m sure, but police coercion...you could talk your way out of that. You’ve had enough ‘proper’ partners over the years that most would believe I must have forced you. They’d label me the villain and forget the specifics. Everything would come back around to normal for you, eventually.”

Sid shook his head in violent refusal. “But I don’t want that.”

“What do you mean, you don’t want that?!” Sullivan threw his hands up in disgust. “How can you not want that? Are you saying you’d rather be a pariah? That you’d rather be in prison with me? And no,” he cut Sid off before he could object, “we wouldn’t be together. You know they’d send us to opposite ends of the country. So don’t try that argument.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Good.”

“But I’m also not gonna lie.”

“ _Damn_ it, Sidney-”

Through all the months that they’d been together, Sullivan had played the dominant role in their relationship. Sid’s willingness to be conquered had surprised him at first, but he’d come to appreciate it. Not only did it cut down on bickering, it also gave Sullivan a sense of real control. Despite all outward appearances he rarely felt that he was in command of any situation, from the speed with which the milk saturated his morning cereal to the trajectory an investigation was taking. When he was literally on top of Sid, though – when he was wholly responsible for every moan, every twitch, every murmured plea for more, harder, faster, now – he forgot all of those other times. In those moments, he ruled the world.

That was why it was so disconcerting to find himself suddenly on the ground and staring upward into Sid’s eyes. All of those sessions in which the younger man had let him have his way unopposed had lulled him into a false sense of security. He’d forgotten that Sid’s hands could pin his shoulders down just as easily as they could claw at his back. He’d forgotten, too, that the long legs that usually wrapped themselves around his arse could hold his hips in place instead of trying to tug them closer. Above all, he’d forgotten that the muscles and tendons he took so much delight in tracing and teasing belonged to a man who knew how to use them to his own ends.

“No.” Sid whispered that single word, then paused. “...No. Damn _you_. Damn you for asking me for that.”

“Sid, you don’t understand-”

“Oh, I understand. You want to go to jail as a martyr, is that it? Sacrificing yourself? You want to go knowing, or at least believing, that everything’s fine for me out here?” The fingers on Sullivan’s shoulders dug in. “Do you think that would make it easier for you to bear what they would do to you in there?”

Sullivan hadn’t thought of it in that way, but now that Sid was saying it out loud... “It would,” he insisted.

“It _wouldn’t_ ,” Sid snarled. “You forget, I’ve already done a couple stints in prison. Short rides, and not for buggery, but I’ve seen enough to know what happens to guys like us when people on the inside know. You go in for that, you get destroyed, and nothing is enough to make it easier. _Nothing_.

“You said you want to give me a chance to go on with my life here.” Sid moved closer, until their noses were almost brushing. “But there’s no chance of that. How could there be? What, I’m gonna grab a pint down the pub and pretend like I don’t know that some rapey bastard has you bent over a table and’s fixing you for an internal bleed? I’m gonna take a bite of a cucumber sandwich at one of Lady F.’s teas and not throw up from the thought that someone might be marking you, marking _mine_ , at that same moment, and in a hell of a lot more brutal of a way? I’m gonna lay in bed at night, am I, and stare out the window at the stars, all alone, and act like it doesn’t kill me inside that if you’re still alive you’re cursing my name, and always will, forever and ever, amen?”

Sid was panting. His breath scraped more harshly against Sullivan’s cheek with every new horror he gave voice to. “Things can’t ‘go back to normal,’ you miserable fucking twat,” he moaned, wide-eyed. “Don’t you get it? ‘Normal’...‘normal’ is you in my life. Even if no one else can ever know it.”

For the space of several racing, aching heartbeats, all Sullivan could do was stare. Then he reached up, grabbed hold of Sid’s waist, and pulled him down into a hard embrace. A tear-dampened face dug in against his throat. “...You know,” he whispered, “for a reprobate, you’re unbelievably loyal.”

“’S easy, with the right people.” Sid sniffled, took a deep breath, and seemed to bring his emotions under control. “...Anyway,” he went on, his voice still husky, “only an idiot would betray the best lay they’ll ever have.”

Sullivan laughed and squeezed him tighter. “God, I love you.”

They both paused. They'd each danced around those three very loaded words on multiple occasions, but neither had yet spoken them out loud. “You want to clarify that a bit?” Sid asked finally.

“What about it needs to be clarified? I thought it was rather straightforward.”

“Well...” Sid began to shake with repressed amusement, “were you talking to God, or were you talking to me?”

“To you, obviously!”

“Oh, alright, then.” He let out a snicker. “Sorry. You spend as much time hanging around a church as I do and ‘God, I love you’ can start to get confusing.” He calmed, and they lay quietly together for a while. “...D’you mean it?”

“Yes. I did mean it. I do.”

“Good. Me, too.”

“I know.” Sullivan frowned up at the clear, blue sky. “...Sid?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I need you to do something else for me.”

“About bloody time,” Sid said, slipping one hand between them and heading for Sullivan’s fly.

“Not that,” Sullivan stopped him. “...Something else.”

“You really want to go down this road again?”

“It’s easier this time. And I don’t think you’ll object to it.”

“What is it, then?”

“Say ‘I love you’ regularly. To...to me, I mean.”

Sid pulled back enough to look down at him. “...Yeah?”

Sullivan nodded. “I know it’s pathetic,” he admitted, blushing. “But-”

A kiss cut him off. “...I love you,” Sid told him easily and frankly when it ended. “It’s stupid that you think it’s pathetic to want to hear me say that to you – almost as stupid as you thinking I’d lie to save my own arse if we ever get caught was – but I love you even when you’re stupid, so it works out alright.”

“Thank you.”

“For which bit? Saying ‘I love you,’ or loving you even when you’re stupid?”

“Both.”

“Right. You’re welcome. And now we’ve got that out of the way...” Sid wriggled suggestively atop him. “...I need _you_ to do something for _me_.”

Sullivan arched a knowing eyebrow. “For you, or to you?”

“Both. But it’s even easier than saying ‘I love you.’ All you have to do is take my clothes off and screw me silly.”

With Sid no longer resisting, a single gentle push was enough to roll them over. Back in his preferred position, Sullivan studied the man below him. If they ever _were_ caught, it was going to be hell to know that Sid was suffering the same fate he himself was. But at least he’d have the declaration they‘d both finally uttered this afternoon to cling to. “I suppose your compliance with my second request has earned you a reward.”

“Yeah, I didn’t figure you’d object this time.”

“And if I had?”

Sid smirked. “I was gonna tell you that I love you when you’re stupid, but I love you more when you fuck me.”

“...Yes,” Sullivan allowed as he leaned down and got to work. “You’re right. That would absolutely have worked.”


End file.
